


Head

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Something’s off on the bridge.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Harry Kim
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Head

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Harry’s alert from the second he steps out of the turbolift, and it’s not the usual forced stiffness, not a conscious thing. From the minute he was promoted to captain, he was acutely aware of how _not ready_ he was, _is_ , still young and fresh, wholly unequipped to be thrown halfway across the universe and paired up with a Maquis leader so much more suave and _cool_ than he’ll ever be. Tom sits in the first officer’s seat like he was born to be there, blue eyes on the wide viewscreen, face full of confidence as he eyes the passing stars. He’s only a beta, but he has no trouble with command. Harry’s _an omega_ , and he’s always anxious about that or the weight of all his responsibilities or how many older, more qualified alphas man menial posts around the bridge. 

But the trepidation he feels this time is _different_ , something insidious, instinctive. There’s something wrong. One of the few perks of his submissive genes is that sensitivity. He knows the second something’s _off_. Then it clicks into place out of nowhere: there’s an alpha _going into rut_ right in his bubble.

He glances surreptitiously over his shoulder, eyeing the security section, but Tuvok’s a Vulcan, and they don’t suffer the same dynamics as human. Chakotay’s at the helm, reeking of the usual alpha pheromones but nothing else beyond it. Next to him, Wildman’s another omega. Then Harry’s eyes skim to the tactical station and lock on Janeway, the strong, gorgeous, ridiculously competent Ensign Janeway, who should probably be in the captain’s chair instead of him. 

It’s her. He knows it the second he sees her standing there, bent over a panel, eyes practically burning through the circuits. She can joke along with the best of them, is too much fun on the holodeck, somehow both competitive and a great sport, and yet when it comes to duty, she’s so wildly _intense_. He can feel the mounting aura of sheer _domination_ pulsing thicker and denser, threatening to engulf the entire ship. It’s a wonder no one else has looked over. Wildman’s shoulders are squared, but no one else seems any the wiser. Maybe it’s just Harry. Harry knows he’s _weak_.

In his defense, no omega captain should have to contend with such a virile alpha underling. It’s not just that she’s lovely to look at, lithe but toned, mature and in peak physical condition—she’s also everything Harry could ever want in an officer: bright, talented, intelligent, loyal... the list goes on and on. Kathryn Janeway is all things. He’s always admired her for that. 

But this new scent makes it unbearable. Harry closes his eyes and tries to forget it, to picture someone else, _something_ else, nothing but the USS Voyager gliding serenely through space. Instead, he imagines her strutting to him, circling around the bridge like a hawk sizing up prey, coming to yank him right out of his seat and _put him in his place._ A shiver wracks through his body, her smirk behind his eyes. 

When he opens those eyes, he makes his decision. If an omega went into heat on the bridge, he’d send them to sickbay in a heartbeat. Alphas should be no different. 

He casually calls without looking at her, “Ensign Janeway, would you mind going down to sickbay to check the doctor’s program? He was complaining about some minor malfunctions earlier, and as there doesn’t seem to be anything going on in this sector...”

She looks up from her console. Even in his peripherals, he can feel her gaze piercing into him. He can’t help but feel like _she knows._ She’s too smart not to. But she’s dedicated to the Federation above all else, always in line with Starfleet’s structure. She doesn’t question him, just nods and agrees, “Yes, Sir.” In that one moment, hearing the title roll off her tongue feels so _wrong_. He should be on his knees for her instead, begging for a chance to follow her every whim. 

She moves to the turbolift like a cat on the prowl. Wildman even checks over her shoulder to look, and Harry can’t begrudge her that. He almost breathes a sigh of relief when the doors swish shut behind Janeway, and the recycled air starts filtering away her scent like none of it ever happened.

He can see Tom fighting a grin beside him, but Tom’s a good enough first officer not to laugh outright. Harry knows he’ll see it later. They’ve gotten close enough for that. Sometimes he thinks he’s gotten a little _too_ close to his crew, and other times, not nearly close enough. Nozawa, a beta, was over by the engineering conduit but wordlessly reports to tactical in Janeway’s wake, seemingly unfazed by the cloud left behind.

Harry’s _very_ fazed. But it’s his duty not to show it. So he sucks in a breath and stares straight forward, resolved to do his job.


End file.
